Chapter Thirty-Six
Emmett
HE WAS curled up in the corner of the van, shaking and trying not to cry. How had this happened? What the hell was even happening? The terror raging inside him was overwhelming, leaving him gasping for breath as he shuddered.
They’d pushed him into the back of the van, one man behind the wheel while the other two were in the back with him, watching him closely. They hadn’t bothered to tie him up. Not that he could claim it was necessary. He wouldn’t even know how to fight his way out.
The shortest of the men said something to the other, his voice too low to hear, and with their scarves covering the lower parts of their faces, he couldn’t read his lips either.
The man bent down to grab a throw blanket off the floor of the van, and then he made his way to Emmett’s corner, one hand on the wall of the van to keep himself upright.
Emmett hated that he folded in on himself.
“Here,” the man said, crouching down in front of him and laying the blanket over his shoulders. Emmett didn’t move a muscle, staring at the man as he tried to breathe as quietly as possible.
He tugged his scarf down to reveal a clean-shaven square chin and a small scar through his upper lip.
“It’s alright. You’re safe now,” he said, looking as if he believed it, too.
He’d never felt more unsafe in his life. He closed his eyes, regretting it immediately when a vision of Wilder falling to his knees in the parking lot flashed through his mind. He couldn’t think about Wilder right now because if he did… If he thought for even one second that Wilder might be…
All he could do was breathe.
In. Hold. Out.
In.
Hold.
Out.
He couldn’t allow any other thoughts to enter his mind or he’d stop breathing altogether.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when the van finally came to a stop, the engine cutting out. He didn’t know if there was something worse waiting for him outside, and that thought had him clutching the blanket tighter around himself.
The two men in the back with him talked low amongst themselves for a moment, and then the one who’d given Emmett the throw blanket was grabbing him by the arm to pull him to his feet, the blanket falling to the floor of the van and leaving him feeling even more exposed than he already did.
He tried to swallow down the panic threatening to rise in his chest as he was tugged out the door, his steps wobbly at best. They led him into a house, the hand on the back of his shoulder making him nauseous.
He tried to orient himself. To take in his surroundings. But he’d never been this terrified in his life. The sound of heavy footsteps, of rustling clothes, of someone tapping their nails against metal… it was too much.
“Carlton?”
The voice cut clear through the fog, and it snapped his head up, his spine ramrod straight as he watched Heath walk toward them. He was in his usual designer clothes, his hair slicked back and making him look like the pretentious asshole he was.
“There you are,” Heath said, smiling at Emmett as if they were having a normal conversation. As if this situation was completely normal.
Fingers dug into Emmett’s shoulder, bringing him to a halt. He bit his cheek to keep from making a pained sound, though he couldn’t hide his flinch.
The man who’d driven the van stepped around Emmett, his straight posture and military short hair only making him look that much scarier. He’d removed his scarf, and Emmett tried not to look at him, cutting his gaze to the floor.
“You forgot to mention a few things,” Carlton said, his tone making the hair on Emmett’s arms stand on end.
“I told you exactly where he was,” Heath argued.
“We lost a man.”
Heath’s eyes widened for a second, and then that arrogance took over, and he crossed his arms, looking down at Carlton with a sneer on his face.
“How is it my fault that you’re bad at your jobs?”
Carlton didn’t lash out or yell, and Emmett thought that his silence might just be worse.
“You just doubled the price.”
Heath spluttered, then gave Emmett a look he could only translate to, ‘you better be worth it,’ and if he hadn’t already been cold to the bones, he certainly was now.
“You look pale. Go sit on the couch,” Heath said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll take care of this.”
The hand on his shoulder disappeared, and he nearly breathed a sigh of relief, though realizing he wasn’t any safer with Heath had him clenching his teeth instead.
He walked to the couch, his steps cautious. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, to refuse Heath’s order. He had no idea what was truly going on. How much danger was he in? Heath had never physically hurt him before, but now he was doing business with the kind of men who did?
He lowered himself onto the couch, breathing in and holding it for a few seconds before breathing out again, trying to center himself. It wasn’t working. Nothing felt right. His own skin felt wrong. Foreign.
He dug his nails into his palms as he watched Carlton and his men turn and walk out of the room.
The second they were out of sight, he noticed his breathing becoming a little easier.
It soothed his anxiety enough for him to look around.
He’d barely noticed the outside of the house, but from what he saw in this room, an open living-dining-kitchen situation, he’d never been here before. Heath had to have lent or rented it.
Heath dropped his phone onto the kitchen island with a sigh.
Emmett didn’t know what he’d paid those goons, but he knew Heath wasn’t rich.
Not rich enough to pay for human trafficking, which he was starting to realize that this probably constituted as.
Shit. What the hell had Heath gotten them into, and how did he get out of it?
He needed to get as far away from Heath as possible. But how?
There was no way Heath would leave him alone long enough for him to sneak out.
Did he just wait for Wilder to come for him?
A lump formed in his throat, making it hard to breathe.
He knew the others would come looking for him, but it was Wilder’s face, Wilder’s eyes, he wanted to see.
It was Wilder’s big body he needed to see blocking the doorway.
He didn’t even know if Wilder was alright, and the thought made a tear slip down his cheek. He dried it off before Heath could see. He’d always scolded him for being too sensitive.
Heath walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of white wine. He poured himself a glass, sparing Emmett a considering glance before putting the bottle away.
“I hope you know just how much I’ve sacrificed to get you back,” Heath said, taking a long sip of wine. “Had to take a damned loan.”
He eyed Heath with confusion. The loan made sense, but why go through all that trouble just to what? Hurt him? Force him back to be in his depth somehow?
“I don’t get it. If you wanted me back so bad, why did you send people to hurt me?”
Heath stilled, eyes narrowing. “They hurt you?”
Emmett clenched his teeth, anger swirling inside him like a storm that had been waiting to brew. “Generally, when you hit someone with a car, it does in fact hurt them.”
Heath’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open.
“I didn’t send anyone to hit you with a fucking car, Em.”
“Why did you send anyone at all?”
“To save you,” Heath snapped, making Emmett recoil.
Heath sighed and walked over to sit down next to him, reaching for his hand. He let him take it, both hating and appreciating that he felt absolutely nothing at that touch.
“I just want you safe. From those sick bastards.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to point out Heath’s hypocrisy, but as always, the words never came.
“I went to the police, but they wouldn’t help me, even after I told them it was criminals in a gang who had you.”
“Club,” he muttered under his breath, even though he knew Heath wouldn’t appreciate being corrected.
He wanted to shout at Heath that he was the criminal who’d kidnapped him.
Who was holding him against his will. But he needed to tread carefully.
He’d thought he knew what Heath was capable of, but clearly he didn’t.
“They’re gonna come for me.”
Heath snorted. “They can try. They’ll never find us.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Emmett mumbled.
He dropped his gaze to his hands, his whole body tense as he waited for Heath to yell at him. He felt no relief when Heath stood without another word and walked back to the kitchen to down his glass of wine. That would only make everything worse.
Glass shattering made him jump, gaze shooting across the room at Heath, whose face had gone pale. His wine glass was in one piece, clutched in his right hand.
Emmett stood slowly, flinching when a loud, scratchy noise came from the front of the house.
“There’s no way…” Heath put his glass down, walking across the room as he muttered, “How could they have found us?”
Considering they had Ezra and his hacker skills at their disposal, he wasn’t surprised that they had, nor how fast they’d found them.
“I told you.”
Heath whirled around, that darkness rising in his eyes he’d seen one too many times.
“Shut the fuck up,” Heath snapped, rushing toward Emmett. He raised his hand as if to slap him, but at Emmett’s violent flinch, Heath lowered it with a curse, gaze shooting toward the footsteps coming down the hall.
They both knew whoever came through that doorway would be armed, and Wilder had already killed to keep him safe. He didn’t doubt he’d do it again.
“Just let me go,” Emmett said, voice barely above a whisper.
Heath shook his head and pulled out his phone, yelling, “I’m calling the cops.”
The footsteps stopped, and then a gunshot rang out, freezing time and the breath in his lungs.
Heath fell to the ground, and while he didn’t want to look, he couldn’t stop his head from turning, nor his eyes from finding that bloody spot on Heath’s forehead. He dropped to his knees next to Heath. Next to his body. Watching as blood pooled on the floor around his head.
His stomach lurched.
Black boots entered his vision, and as he slowly raised his gaze, it wasn’t green-flecked eyes he met.